Loss.

When I was 5 years old I learned to ride my bicycle without training wheels. I remember it like it was yesterday. My Grandfather (Papa) took me out front of the house and he held on to the back of my seat, running behind as I rode down the street. At one point I turned around to head back and saw him standing 20 feet away from me. He had let go....I got scared, wobbled a bit, but managed to keep it together and rode back to him.

A year ago my Papa was slipping away from us, after a courageous battle with ALS. Thursday marks the one year anniversary of his passing. I have a lot of emotions right now, but I am feeling especially discouraged because an entire year has passed and I don't think that hole in my heart has closed at all. I told myself eventually it would get smaller, or at least just not seem so....gaping.

It hasn't. When my family and I get together I feel like it's written all over our faces. It's as if we are almost shadows of who we used to be. We just don't feel whole anymore, I guess because we aren't. I've been worrying about us a lot, wondering if we'll ever be happy again. This morning I have decided that I need to cut us some slack. I think my "it will be a bit better in a year" prediction was overly optimistic.

My Grandfather was my rock, he was the person you could go to when you felt sad or scared and he knew just what to say. He was the person who could take a screaming, inconsolable infant and calm them down in an instant. He could hug you, and no matter what you were going through you felt safe.

I feel like that bicycle story is a good analogy for what we are all going through right now. All along we knew we had Papa to hold us up, and a year ago he had to let go. It's just going to take us all longer than an instant to be able to stop wobbling. And then one day eventually ride back to him.